The best of the year in sci-fi, fantasy, horror, animation . . . and everything in between

Now that the year in film has culminated with the Academy giving its top honor to yet another
perfectly adequate but sure-to-be-forgotten film, and now that I've finally caught up on all the
year's releases, it's time unveil the best films of the 2010. A tad belated, but it still counts, right?
Right.

As it turns out, seven of my overall top ten fit into sci-fi, fantasy, horror or animation. From a
dystopian allegory to a funhouse mirror, from dream constructionists to nightmarish surrealism,
it was an unusually strong year for the extremes of filmmaking subjects and styles.

The best film of the year was in science fiction - the third time that's happened over the last
decade or so, with Never Let Me Go joining Minority Report in 2002 and Children of Men in
2006. My overall top ten - along with honorable mentions and more - is listed in the panel to the
right.

NEVER LET ME GO

Directed by Mark Romanek

There was an eight-year hiatus between Mark Romanek's debut feature, 2002's One Hour Photo,
and his follow-up, but the wait was more than worth it. The resulting film was Never Let Me Go,
a pitch-perfect tone poem that delicately chronicles an alternate past in which moral and ethical
conundrums have been pushed aside in favor of technological advancement. Featuring another
brilliant performance from Carey Mulligan, Never Let Me Go works as both a beautiful three-pronged character study and a devastating fable on the frailties of humankind.

As it turns out, the best comedy of the year (however dark, twisted, harrowing and tragic it may
have been) was a pitch-black funhouse horror flick set in the world of ballet. Darren Aronofsky
reinvented himself yet again with Black Swan, a glorious fever dream that wryly satirizes show
business while delving playfully into all the darkest and strangest (and most narcissistic) corners
of the human psyche. Combining his own ongoing fascination with the extremes of human
behavior with stylistic elements reminiscent of early Polanski, Aronofsky walked a brutal
tightrope, balancing quiet intimacy with operatic melodrama.

Surely the most discussed (and over-discussed) movie of the year, Christopher Nolan's Inception
made intelligent science fiction cool again. What is so effective about the film's approach to its
material is the way it uses the subconscious as a series of literal constructs that basically have to
fight off the dreamer's true subconscious. What surreal imagery exists in the film comes in the
juxtaposition between the constructed dream spaces and the anachronistic images, people and
events that pop into them all too often. Inception works as an action-thriller, a puzzle, a piece of
film criticism and then some, and it's one of the most complex and original pieces of filmmaking
to hit the mainstream in years.

As I wrote in my review, I can't for the life of me shake the last 20 minutes of Sylvain Chomet's
The Illusionist. It basically just rips out my guts with a procession of images - faces on a train,
the dimming lights of a run-down theatre, bustling city streets, and most importantly a particular
note on a kitchen table - that add up to something devastating and unforgettable. That's not to
say the rest of the movie isn't, too - because it is. Using an old Jacques Tati script, Chomet once
again shows his chops both as a visual stylist (with this beautiful hand-drawn animation) and a
comic master in his own right.

Indisputably the least-seen movie on this list, The Temptation of St. Tony is nonetheless a more-than-worthwhile experience that wasn't easily forgotten by the few of us who got a chance to see
it. This is a darkly comedic surrealist movie that is as fully dedicated to its surrealist roots as it
can be. Drawing acknowledged influence from filmmakers like Buñuel and Pasolini - among
many others - the film is savagely beautiful in its imagery and deadpan in its absurdist humor, as
we follow a middle manager (named Tony, as you might imagine) attempting to decipher the
meaning or purpose of morality in a world of materialism and sexuality.

Like one or two other movies on my list, this next one can only fully be appreciated by someone
who recognizes the humor in both the scenario being presented and the filmmaking itself.
Dogtooth is a pitch-black deadpan comedy with allegorical underpinnings that refuse to blatantly
identify themselves in any specific way. Director Giorgos Lanthimos' approach is too clever for
that, as he tells the story of a family of five - six, if you count the imaginary older brother who
supposedly lives outside the family's property, banished forever - that is basically an example of
a grand and perverse thought experiment, perpetrated by the parents. Lanthimos' vision is
delightfully unique, savagely funny and often brilliant. I can't wait to see what he does next.

The film that I was most worried about (given its February release date) ended up being one of
the most fascinating of the year. Somehow, Martin Scorsese wound up revitalizing himself once
again, going into pure playfully cinematic mode with Shutter Island, a stylistic experiment that
almost no one else would be capable of pulling off. Shifting between gothic noir, German
expressionism, giallo, monster-movie horror, Hitchcockian suspense and various strains of
surrealism, this is a virtuoso piece of filmmaking that is more than able to overcome the
occasional screenplay hiccup. And the film, the fourth in the ongoing collaboration between
Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio, may feature the latter's best performance yet.

There may be no 2010 film that showed such a blatant disregard for basic cinematic etiquette as
Edgar Wright's Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and that's one of its charms. For a film about a 20-something slacker who literally has to fight off his new squeeze's seven evil exes, how much
more absurd could Wright make it, right? Well, plenty more absurd, as it turns out. The pure
cinematic energy on display is inspiring, as Wright dashes between one style and the next with a
sense of brash playfulness that perfectly reflects the world his film inhabits.

The best movie in more than a decade from writer-director Neil Jordan, Ondine is a mysterious
pseudo-fantasy whose greatest mysteries (in typical Jordan fashion) are the nature of the
characters themselves, rather than the plot circumstances that surround them. Telling the story of
a fisherman (Colin Farrell) whose luck changes with the sudden appearance of an alluring
woman (Alicja Bachleda) who may or may not be a mystical "Selkie," Ondine is a beautiful and
moody character piece that carefully and gracefully uncovers its darkest undercurrents.

Toy Story 3 serves as a lovely coda to a franchise that began 15 years earlier, and whose most
significant accomplishment may be putting Pixar on the map and allowing it to go on to bigger
and better things. This may be the best of the trilogy, a consistently funny and nostalgic tribute to
characters we've grown to love and a fitting close to an important chapter not only in those
characters' lives, but in Pixar's legacy. And Mr. Potato Head's Picasso-esque tortilla sequence
has to go down as the best scene in this series' history, right?

I was apparently one of the few who felt that Iron Man 2 was actually better than its predecessor.
Not only does it end in vastly superior fashion - the action finale boasts much more creativity
and style than did the finale of the original - but it has the Rockwell/Rourke Factor. Yes, Sam
Rockwell and Mickey Rourke make for such a marvelously funny villainous duo that I'm more
than willing to forgive the nonsensical party fight scene between Tony Stark and War Machine.

An old Irish folk tale gets a memorable cinematic adaptation in The Secret of Kells, a gorgeous
piece of hand-drawn animation and a Best Animated Film Oscar nominee last year. The stylistic
dexterity from sequence to sequence, the dreamlike pastels, the compositions of bold and
exaggerated contrast, the unique character design, all of it - the film is so great to look at, I could
enjoy myself even with the volume turned down.

No doubt buoyed by the "consultation" of cinematographer extraordinaire Roger Deakins (who
also worked on WALL-E and this year's Rango), How to Train Your Dragon is a great-looking
action fantasy that takes a rather run-of-the-mill coming-of-age prototype and injects it with a
unique sense of warmth and humor. While it may not be up to par with Pixar's best, it certainly
suggests that DreamWorks is getting its act together - this is easily the studio's best animated
feature since the original Shrek.

MACHETE

Directed by Robert Rodriguez and Ethan Manquis

I will never look at a small intestine the same way again after Machete, a gleefully over-the-top
exploitation revenge flick that touches on the immigration debate, religion and American culture
in hilariously tongue-in-cheek fashion. Sure, maybe not everything in the movie works, but more
than enough sticks to make for some great, low-down, dirty fun.

Despite too often feeling more like a set-up than its own film, Harry Potter and the Deathly
Hallows is nonetheless another impressive effort in this series from David Yates. Aside from
some dubious special effects, the production values are astounding - particularly the Nazi- and
Red Scare-inspired propaganda we see floating around Hogwarts and beyond. Even more
impressive is the film's astonishing animated sequence - The Tale of the Three Brothers - which
on its own would be the best short film of the year.

Disney Animation may finally be getting back on its feet after Tangled, which even with its
computer animation manages to feel more like a throwback to the golden era of hand-drawn
Disney fairy tales than anything else. After overcoming its horrid opening number, Tangled
quickly hits its stride with an acerbic sense of humor and a visual elegance that culminates in the
mesmerizing lantern sequence that is far and away the film's best moment.